Tinge of Jade
by Sable Sword
Summary: [Complete] The flame of love is delicate. Without warning the slightest breath of wind can alter its entire existance, extinguishing it forever. Roy x Riza. Read if it pleases you. And if you bother to read, review.
1. A Messy Office

The relentless rain tapped against the cold glass periodically, imprinting an invisible tattoo on the stained surface. A pale, flawless face reflected in the frosty pane, fatigued and travel-worn. The lone figure stepped off the rusty contraption, glancing at the swollen sky that continued to fire silver bullets into the sodden earth. Water slid down her ashen cheeks and off the bridge of her delicate nose, disappearing into the creases of her saturated navy blue garment. She descended the slippery stairwell and began walking towards one of the many drab, grey buildings that surrounded the deserted station.

She rapped her knuckles thrice against the dark mahogany, waiting politely for a verbal answer. After at least ten minutes, her patience deserted her and she wrenched open the door. Eyeing the messy expanse nervously, she took note of the singed objects strewn carelessly across the room.

"Sir?"

Nothing.

She spun around and strode out into the long hallway, suspicious of even the dreary, whitewashed walls.

"Second Lieutenant!" she yelled hoarsely.

A platinum-blonde streak stumbled out of another door and attempted a military salute, tripping over his own feet in the process.

"Sir…er…Ma'am! Oh, it's you, Riza…um…Lieutenant!" he breathlessly blurted.

"Havoc, where is the colonel?" she intoned, studying his clumsy stature.

"Since M…m…the funeral he hasn't been to work. We were hoping you knew." He replied quietly.

"No, I've been away training promising cadets. Haven't you checked on him?" she stated, a twinge of anxiety in her calm voice, usuallycomparable to the unwavering strength of steel.

"Apparently, Fuery and Falman already tried that and he nearly burnt them to a crisp. We don't dare to approach him…could you, Riza? Please?" Havoc pleaded, clearly desperate.

"Alright…" she concluded and then uttered under her breath "…only if you can finish all of my paperwork if I don't come back."

"Thank you so much! We'd do it ourselves but…"

"Havoc, where the heck is my freshly pressed shirt! I'm not getting any younger you know!" Armstrong shouted from the end of the corridor.

"Erm…coming! Gotta go, good luck!" he exclaimed as he dashed away.

Sighing, Riza rubbed her temples tiredly and pushed the button for the elevator.

**I know that was extremely short, but then again, aren't first chapters always short? This is only my second fanfic (1st was a one-shot) so tell me how you liked it. Do the honour of giving an author some constructive criticism (oh and tell me if I got anything wrong about FMA because I've only watched like five episodes of the anime and read random bits of the manga. Managed to watch the movie though.)**


	2. Weeping Willows

A black and white blur leapt at Riza's dripping form and licked her face furiously.

"Hayate…down…Hayate…Hayate, enough!" Riza stuttered.

The affectionate dog instantly dropped from her soaking uniform and heeled, stone still. Riza sighed again and slowly removed her drenched jacket and knee-high black boots. She dragged her sopping socks across the cream carpet and knelt down to retrieve a bowl with _Hayate_ printed on it in a military-style font, then briskly walked to the kitchen. Reaching up to a glass cupboard, she took out a small container of technicoloured mush, which she proceeded to empty into the cherry red basin. After placing the bowl on the kitchen floor, she entered her bedroom and simply collapsed.

Only a few minutes afterwards, Riza awoke suddenly, finding herself the sole target of one of Hayate's ever-inquisitive stares.

"Leave me alone…tired…" she moaned, grabbing an apple green cushion and clamping it over her head. Hayate tilted his head questioningly and gently nudged her hand with his slightly wet nose.

"Oh, right…colonel…ugh…" she muttered sleepily, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

Riza rolled across the floor, commando-style, only to slam, headfirst, into the nearby closet. Uttering numerous profanities, she pushed herself off the floor and opened the quivering wardrobe.

Shivering, she chose a pair of dark jeans and a viridian tee, quickly changing into the dry attire. Grabbing her ebony brush, she unclasped her semi-dried hair and let it rest just below her shoulders. Slowly, she ran the brush through her tangled locks, teasing out the stubborn knots. Satisfied, she took an Alice band identical to the colour of her shirt and fixed it in her hair.

"There. Hayate, how do I look?" Riza asked, admiring her handiwork in the ornate mirror. Hayate let out a bark of approval and rubbed against the wardrobe, then Riza's leg.

"Yes, I need some socks too. These are filthy." she declared, pulling them off and grabbing a clean pair. Walking to the hallway, she grabbed her comfy converses and slipped on the socks and shoes.

"Stay, Hayate. See you later, boy." she called over her shoulder, closing the front door behind her.

Riza strolled under a long row of weeping willows, their leaves dancing slowly in the gentle breeze. The rain had finally stopped although the earthy aromas of rain still permeated the ground, helping to lift her spirits. She started to hum a calming melody, finally relieving the stress that had been accumulating over countless months.

A few minutes later, she arrived at Roy's modest home. A dilapidated picket fence surrounded the small lot and the veranda looked extremely unstable. The front yard was virtually nonexistent although what was there was filled with noxious-looking weeds and bindies. The only indication of the house actually being occupied was a well-worn trail through the long, waist-high clumps of grass and a pair of black boots standing to attention next to the door. Riza followed the path to the veranda and carefully picked her way to the door, wary of the rotten wood. Inhaling deeply, she knocked twice and summoned the most commanding voice she could muster.

"Sir? Permission to enter?"

**Give me your opinion and review. C'mon, just press that little button and type how you loved/liked/hated/couldn't really give a damn about my story. You know you want to.**


	3. A Heartbeat

**Spoiler Disclaimer: If I owned FMA, I'd be busy resurrecting Maes and Ed. **

**Oh yeah, **_italics_** are for thoughts.**

Riza kicked down the door, pistol up, ready to fire at point-blank range. She surveyed the area nervously, scanning for any possible threats or disturbances. The harsh drone of the TV set whined from further down the corridor, accompanied by the acrid fumes that commandeered her attention. Riza sprinted to the kitchen, only to find a smouldering pot filled with some indescribable liquid that looked and smelt like a vat of radioactive waste. She stepped away from the foul concoction in disgust and felt a sharp sting on the side of her foot. Looking down, she realized that the perpetrator was the broken remnants of a beer bottle, no, several beer bottles.

_Alcohol. Roy. Shit._

Colonel Roy Mustang was a complete wreck. Lying on the sagging sofa, surrounded by a sea of broken glass, beer stains and God knows what else he snored, a trail of spittle rolling down his cheek. Judging by the state of his uniform, he hadn't bothered to change after the service, drunk himself into an oblivious stupor and fell asleep on the couch. Riza's eyes strayed towards his hands and to her horror; a silver pistol gleamed maliciously at her.

_Oh God, is he dead?_

Immediately, the First Lieutenant dropped to one knee and placed two fingers on his neck, the clock on the wall signaling the passing of each second.

_You didn't._

Tick.

_No, of course of you didn't. _

Tock.

_You couldn't of._

Tick.

_Oh my God…_

Tock.

…_you did._

Riza drew a long shuddering breath and placed her head on his chest. _I was away for one week…one week! And this…this, is what happens when I'm gone! Roy, you're such a bloody idiot…_

And there it was.

Faint and nearly undetectable, but there nonetheless.

His heartbeat.

Riza had never felt so relieved in her entire life. Brushing aside the wave of emotions that threatened to overcome her, she straightened and briskly walked back to the kitchen. Grabbing a tea towel, she doused the cloth in cold tap water, folding it into thirds as she tended to the fallen officer.

Dabbing his face with the corner of one towel, she wondered what she was going to do. _It's not as if I can just leave him here. I mean, he'll just get drunk and do something stupid. I can't exactly carry him either…but I guess he's not that much heavier…oh who am I kidding, there's absolutely no way I can carry him all the way to headquarters…_

After she'd placed the towel on his forehead, she stumbled through the piles of trash, trying desperately not to cut her feet on any of the shattered pieces of glass. Slumping into the nearest armchair, she brought her feet up and sat, cross-legged. After a few minutes of calm, she finally found the solution to her predicament. _Fine. I'll just wait for him to wake up._

**I'm genuinely sorry that I took so long. Homework kills. That, and writer's block. I'll try to do a chap every two or three weeks. And I know this is too short. But oh well, deal with it. And I don't really know whether a person's pulse can stop while their heart is still beating. So don't ask.**


	4. The Military Guidelines

**Disclaimer: I own FMA. Seriously. And that's exactly why I'm writing FAN fiction.**

Roy blinked several times and rubbed his head slowly, wondering exactly what'd he'd done to himself this time. "Head…hurts …pain…huh?"

It was at that moment that the bleary-eyed colonel realized that his loyal subordinate was staring at him, concern creasing her feminine features.

"Sir?"

He blinked again.

"Sir, are you alright?"

Roy yawned, stretching his legs out on the comfortable couch. "Ah…yes, I think so…if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing here?"

The steely soldier avoided his gaze, hints of rose tinting her cheeks. "You must be hungry. I'll…um…er…make something." The blushing blonde strode off into the kitchen, leaving the colonel bewildered.

Roy sat there quietly, inhaling the sumptuous aromas wafting in from the kitchen. His brain currently functioned at the same level as a lump of clay, still reeling from the outrageous amount of alcohol he had downed. _Wow…Riza's pretty when she's not in uniform…was she blushing? And, and…she stuttered…she never stutters…eh, I must have been hallucinating…Riza would never blush…but maybe…_

"Sir? Your food…" Apparently Riza had returned, now holding a small hunk of bread and a bowl of minestrone soup.

The colonel snatched the meal, guzzling in the soup in three mighty gulps while simultaneously tearing at the bread ravenously. Between his frenzied attacks on the Italian cuisine, he declared, "Wow…you…cook…well." How one did this while chomping, slurping and swallowing rather noisily, Riza did not know. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing crumbs and tomato all over his once white alchemy gloves. Roy gave a sheepish smile, similar to one of a guilty schoolboy who hadn't yet completed his homework.

The corners of her mouth twitched, forming a slight smile against her own will. "Why, thank you, sir."

"It's Roy after hours."

Riza nodded. "Okay, sir…ah, Roy." She glanced over at the nearby chrome clock, noting the late hour.

A somewhat awkward silence ensued. Both were simply blank, with nothing whatsoever to talk about, absent of any of Roy's childish rhetoric or Riza's stern reprimands…not a single witty comment to break the disarming stillness.

"Well…I'd better get going…"

Riza turned to leave but felt a gloved hand grasp her forearm, causing their eyes to meet briefly.

"Could you stay for the night?" Genuine sincerity emanated from those coal black depths, inviting her to accept his proposition.

She smiled and settled herself next to her commanding officer. "Volume III, Act II, Verse 34-37 of the military guidelines state that downed soldiers are not to be left on the battlefield unassisted."

"Really n…"

Riza's lips met his in an innocent embrace, softly ending his chain of speech. They lingered there, content to enjoy the tranquil peace. His lips pressed harder against hers, passionate, intoxicating, and Riza hardly noticed when his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her closer. He nibbled on her bottom lip, awakening buried feelings that she never knew she possessed, urging her to continue, to banish any sort of discipline and logic from her mind.

To her disappointment, he pulled away, a peculiar expression fixed upon his face. "You wouldn't happen to have any firearms, would you?"

"However did you guess?" she smirked, unstrapping her trusty pistol from her hip and aiming it between his eyes. The click of the safety resonated throughout the room, a pealing bell signaling a possible execution in the near future. Apparently this chick was not only willing to make out with him, but as an added bonus, blow his brains to bits.

Roy moaned dismally and muttered under his breath, "Volume II, Act VII, Verse 5-9 states that military personnel are not permitted to use weapons out of hours unless dire circumstances are in place."

The blonde chuckled and placed the semi-automatic into its holster. "You actually read the military guidelines? I'm impressed."

"Well, what do expect from the future Furher?" he stated indignantly.

Riza placed her hand over his and sighed. "Your inflated ego will be the death of you someday."

He grinned and rested his head on her shoulder. "Yeah, but not today."

Silence descended upon the pair once again. Though this time, it was a comfortable silence. A silence where no words are physically uttered but they are said nonetheless. The kind of silence that is cherished more than a thousand spoken words.

"Riza?"

"Mmm?" Riza hummed, closing her eyes in mock slumber.

"What's your favourite colour?"

"Hmmm…I like all colours."

"You can't like all colours, there has to be one colour you admire more than others. What about the colour of your eyes?"

"No."

"The colour of your hair?"

"Nope."

Roy paused, his face clearly displaying his deep concentration. "Oh…I know! The colour of your uniform!"

"You know, you're acting like a toddler. And no, I don't think so."

Roy pouted slightly, feigning hurt. "I'm drunk. I'm allowed to act like whatever I want."

Riza inwardly smiled at his impossibly immature antics. "Mmm…I like jade."

"Jade? Jade as in green? You mean the colour of your t-shirt green?"

"Yes…that green."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"You have to know…you can't not know…there must be some reason…"

"Roy?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and go to sleep."

"Make me."

"I'm warning you, I will not be held responsible for my actions."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Considering that you will soon be a bloody carcass riddled with 9mm bullets, yes."

"Oh."

"Oh, indeed."

"Riza?"

"Mmm?"

"I think I'll shut up and go to sleep now."

**For the love of God…I think I've finally cracked. I really don't know what happened in that last conversation, 'twas kinda stupid. I guess it sorta explains the title. **

**Yes, Roy is one weird drunk. Yes, they are OOC. And yes, I do suck at kissing scenes. Don't worry, this story will NOT turn into one of those "cute, fluffy" (not to mention pointless) stories that have nothing to do with the characters portrayed in the anime. Not that I have anything against those stories…it's just that I couldn't stand writing like that. **

**Oh well, I'm slightly tipsy, moving on…reviews would be nice. (giggles) (And yes, for those of you who are wondering what the hell is wrong with me, apparently its not a good idea to sneak your Dad's six-pack out in the middle of the night and scull it in three minutes. (groans) I am going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow…)**


	5. Nothing is Impossible

**Disclaimer: Full Metal Alchemist is not mine, no matter how many people I bribe with chocolates.**

**Just a reminder everyone, **_italics _**are thoughts. **

The harsh, morning sunlight filtered in through the battered blinds, highlighting the immense amount of papers, strewn all over a certain colonel's desk. The man seated at the table blinked rapidly, trying to will himself awake without the attracting the attention of his subordinates. Leaning his elbow on a paper outlining the importance of cadet endurance, he placed his head in his hand, watching the two blondes that sat opposite him.

Lieutenant Havoc yawned, rubbing his eyes while simultaneously lighting another cigarette, utter boredom displayed on his face. He winked at his commanding officer, tilting his head slightly to indicate the other blonde in the room. He mouthed 'Good luck' and proceeded to take several long drags on his cigarette, staring at the grey rings of smoke that slowly dissipated into the air.

The raven haired man now shifted his gaze to the only woman who had ever dared to confront and verbally oppose him, First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. Despite the fact that the rather tasteless navy blue outfit did nothing for her figure, she still managed to distract him from his assigned duties. How he loathed the standard military uniform and the plain brown clip that pinned up her soft fair hair. Though by far the thing that irritated him most were her eyes.

While off duty, those claret eyes would glow, radiant with delight. But now, they were dull, devoid of any emotion. Robotic, lifeless, unfeeling. How he longed for her to drop her façades, to be able to express herself clearly without fear of persecution from her profession. His mind wandered, pondering the possibilities if Riza would show her feelings, her lopsided carefree smile, lustrous golden tresses, rapturous russet eyes…

"Finish your paperwork." Hawkeye quipped abruptly without even lifting her gaze.

"But…it's impossible." Mustang murmured, twirling a pen between his fingers, still daydreaming.

"Nothing is impossible, sir."

Roy sighed in defeat and pushed back a stray strand of dark hair.

Riza looked up and stared at her superior officer, with full intention to reprimand him once again for his short attention span. Havoc closed his eyes, anticipating the debate that was about to occur.

"You know, it'd be wise to start doing your paperwork." Riza stated tonelessly.

Roy turned his attention to Riza. "It would be wise…but you see I don't really feel like it."

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow. "You really are immature."

"You can't blame him…maybe he's got ADD?" Havoc supplied, leaning back in his chair.

Inevitably, Roy's coffee mug was flung across the room, spilling scalding liquid all over the source of the unhelpful suggestion.

Amid the yelps of the distressed soldier, Riza sighed. "Sir…I can't finish your work for you tonight."

"And why not?"

"I need to leave early. I have…" she hesitated, "…a gathering I must attend." _I hope he doesn't take this the wrong way…but he needs to finish his work!_

Roy looked crestfallen. "Oh." _She has a date…I'm so stupid…why didn't I ask her out earlier? Argh…oh yeah…unfortunately there's that little rule about military fraternization…not like I'd care anyway…_

With a flurry of motion, the door was wrenched open, revealing a blonde teenager and a tall suit of armour.

"Mustang…ah …emergency…" Ed panted incoherently as he stumbled into the room.

The colonel smirked. "At ease, Full Metal pipsqueak."

Hawkeye eyed the pair suspiciously. "Define emergency, Edward."

Already preoccupied with restraining his older brother, Al managed to blurt out an answer. "We're actually not quite sure of the details, we were just told to investigate a building with two trustworthy military personnel. The document said that it was a top-secret mission of utmost importance."

Roy stood, acknowledging Al's request. "In that case, Hawkeye and I will provide assistance. Havoc, you stay here and finish our paperwork."

Havoc gaped, causing his cigarette to drop from his mouth onto the floor, burning a hole in the carpet. "But…but…I can't finish this! It's impossible!"

"Nothing is impossible." Mustang intoned, a smug smile in place.

Riza shot the stunned soldier a somewhat sympathetic look and followed Ed, Al and Roy out of the room.

Havoc sighed and picked up a pen, surrendering to the massive pile of paperwork that awaited him.

"They always do this to me…"

**Ah…poor Havoc. ****Oh if you don't know, ADD stands for Attention Deficit Disorder. Basically means you can't concentrate well for extended periods of time. **

**Hehe…I'm getting better at writing long chapters. Yes, this chapter isn't particularly exciting, but it's needed for the next one to make sense. **

**Yeah, you people out there are probably wondering where the tragedy is…well it's coming. Just wait. Reviews are always appreciated.**


	6. An Empty Warehouse

**Disclaimer: Full Metal Alchemist and I are never meant to be. Sigh. **

**A bit of swearing here, kiddies, so beware. Well actually, from herein on it's going to get a tad more dramatic, so cursing will be abundant. **

"Oi! Mustang! Where the hell are we?" Ed shouted dismally.

The colonel merely shrugged. "You tell me, shortie."

A vein in the older Elric's forehead bulged, triggering him to utter a long string of completely irrelevant insults and curses at the apathetic man.

Meanwhile, Riza and Al poured over a faded map that was clearly useless, oblivious to Ed's nonsensical ramblings.

"Well, sir, despite my hypothesis that this map is out of date, therefore incorrect, this is the exact location." Hawkeye announced, looking up from the unhelpful document.

Al nodded in agreement and stared at his older brother, mentally willing him to calm down.

Mustang surveyed the drab building. It was nothing out of the ordinary, just an unstable and most likely abandoned warehouse, futile to its former owner. Unsure, he gestured for the team to investigate more closely.

Following the flame alchemist's lead, they ventured into the dingy atmosphere, wary of even the creaks of the floorboards. Riza suddenly stopped and began to cough violently, causing Roy to look back, face creased in concern. Noticing his expression, she covered her mouth politely with one hand, and waved the other, signaling the team to carry on.

Against his primal instincts, the colonel continued, wondering what on earth could be wrong with his subordinate. The dismal band continued to walk, wandering aimlessly about the broken crates, glass and whatnot.

_Some time later…_

"Mustang! My feet hurt…there's nothing here apart from boxes…can we call it a day?" Edward yawned, stretching his arms out in an attempt to convey his weariness.

Riza looked up from her latest fit, still trembling from the great hacking coughs that wracked her slim frame. "Yes, sir…" she managed, "There is no reason to continue. We have exhausted all possibilities and it is safe to assume that this warehouse is abandoned."

"When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. We have not yet eliminated the impossible, only the possible, therefore, however improbable, there must be a truth that we have not discovered, namely, the impossible." Roy sighed, running a hand through his messy mop of hair.

"But…" he glanced back at his subordinate, who was currently leaning on Al, trying to force some air into her oxygen-deprived lungs. "For Hawkeye's sake, let's go back."

Riza nodded weakly, still lacking the energy for verbal gratitude.

"Oh, shit."

"Brother, what is it?" Al asked, puzzled.

Ed knelt down and picked up several golden cartridges. He fingered the edges cautiously, as they were still smoking, accompanied by the unpleasant scent of gunpowder.

"Riza, how big are these bullets?" he asked seriously, holding the shells up to the fading daylight. They glinted menacingly, as if holding a secret, one that threatened the team's very existence.

The first lieutenant's eyes widened, taking in the enormous size of the cartridge. "That…that's one of the newest bullets on the black market. They're big enough for one-shot kills, and when fired, are so loud that they can destroy the internal workings of the eardrum. However, when equipped with a silencer, can't be detected at all. Illegal, but popular amongst professional snipers."

Roy took one of the bronzy shells and examined it closely, contrasting starkly with his ivory gloves. "This is bad. We need to get out of here right…"

A keen bullet silently sliced through the air, instantaneously burying itself in live flesh, thirsty for human blood.

"Fuck."

"**When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." That's a quote from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (you know, the guy who made up Sherlock Holmes), so I don't claim that. I just thought it fit in that scene pretty well.**

**I think I'll just leave you guys hanging there for a while…I love cliffys. (insert evil smirk here)**

**Guess who got shot? Actually, it's pretty obvious but oh well. A virtual choc-chip cookie for people who give their opinion!**

**Criticism is welcome, as long as it's relevant to the story and there's a reason provided.**


	7. A Tank of Gas

**Disclaimer: Apparently some man called Hiromu Arakawa has already claimed FMA. (hangs head)**

**I'm sorry I took a while to update. I've been neglecting my writing…I've been a bad, bad author. Well, the only excuse I've got is that it's now the holidays for Australian kids, thus my social life has taken priority. That and the fact that my brain has turned to mush (as always in the holidays). Yeah…that's pretty lame but…meh. Enjoy.**

Mustang clutched his shoulder, his eye twitching constantly as an outwardly measure of the excruciating pain. The sizzling bullet still cast off sparks, melting the very flesh and dying the fabric around it an ugly crimson. He narrowed his eyes and stared at the rafters, gloved hand up, ready to incinerate the perpetrator.

Ed pushed his hands together and slapped the ground, spraying hardened clods of earth at the rafters, hopefully distracting the unknown enemies. Grateful for the temporary distraction, Al and Riza commando rolled behind a barrier of metal containers while Roy attempted to pull the bullet out with his fingers, an ugly grimace plastered across his face.

A rapid storm of shells ensued, nipping past the comrades and burying themselves into the rotting wood below. Riza whipped out her pistol and began firing, occasionally ducking behind Al to reload. For several minutes, the raucous cacophony continued, a never-ending hail of cartridges that seemed to defy the laws of human endurance.

Hawkeye howled in pain as several bullets ripped into her hands, nipping the oil containers on their way past and showering Al and her in their liquid contents. Finishing up his makeshift tourniquet, the lieutenant colonel whipped his head up just in time to see his subordinate go down. He growled and began to run towards her, anxious to check her physical condition. After quickly re-assessing the situation though, he turned around and snapped his fingers, oblivious to the fact that both Riza and Ail were soaking in petrol.

The enormous explosion that followed literally blew the building to bits, drowning out Riza and Al's tormented screams. Ed struggled to suspend the falling debris while Roy desperately searched through the chaos, both distressed for the safety of their comrades.

Throwing aside a rather large support beam, Mustang was horrified to discover Riza and Al's burnt bodies. Al, being a suit of armour, had simply changed to black colour, covered in soot, deathly afraid at the most. Riza, however, was much worse for wear. He cast an anxious eye over her and almost instantaneously clasped a hand over his mouth to avoid throwing up. She lay spread-eagled across the debris, her bloodied body covered in devastating burns. Her left leg jutted out at a strange angle, shrapnel decorating what was left of it and her face…he didn't even want to go there.

Roy gently lifted Hawkeye's limp body and carefully hoisted her onto his back, trying to avoid jarring her at all costs. This movement attracted Ed's attention and soon, he too, was rendered speechless.

"…what the hell happened?" the blonde mouthed, his eyes going wide.

Mustang turned to face the vertically challenged individual, his stiff stature portraying none of his inner turmoil.

"Edward, go get Alphonse. We're leaving. Now."

The dismal crew flung open the glass doors and practically fell onto the enquiry desk, clearly desperate.

"Oh my…doctor!" the nurse yelped, waving her arms frantically.

A team of doctors rushed into the crowded room and all looked at Riza, or rather, what was Riza.

"We need a stretcher, stat!"

As several of the medics carried the injured first lieutenant away, a young doctor ushered Roy, Ed and Al aside.

"She's in a critical condition…sir, we'll do our best."

Roy swallowed awkwardly. "Thank you. We…ah…does she have a high chance of survival?"

The timid man looked away. "The surgery will be intense and those burns look pretty severe…well, to be frank, sir, it's only 10 percent." The mousy-haired individual cast a critical eye over Roy. "Sir…you're bleeding quite badly…you probably need treatment."

Mustang shook his head slightly. "No need, I assure you, I'll be fine."

"Alright then…but don't hesitate to ask one of the nurses if you begin to feel light-headed and dizzy. If you'll excuse me, I have a patient I must attend."

The shy attendant hurried away as the lieutenant colonel glanced at the two brothers in the room.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "Boys…go home."

Al began to protest but Ed swiftly clapped a hand over his mouth, muffling his words. The suit of armour kicked his brother, albeit slightly harder than necessary and turned his attention to Mustang.

"Sir…will you be alright? You were injured too so…"

"I'll be fine. I'm sure you're feeling a little shell-shocked yourself, so I'll grant you permission to go to Resembol for a week."

"Great! Did you hear that, brother? We can see Winry and Aunty!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Well…thanks, I guess, Mustang." Ed said rather gruffly.

"Enjoy it while you can kiddo."

* * *

The train jolted as it went over a particularly uneven section of track, jarring the Elrics, the only current occupants of the compartment. Ed stared outside the window at the perfect ivory sphere that illuminated the endless expanse above. The subtle pinpricks of light only enhanced the beauty of the darkness, adding to the mystery of the glowing moon.

"Brother…you look sad. What's wrong?" Al asked warily.

The figure sitting opposite Al slumped slightly and cast his eyes towards the floor.

"Al…that could've easily been you." His voice quivered, as though coming from the very depths of his soul. "I…I…couldn't bear to lose you."

"Brother…"

"There's a reason why I'm your older brother. I'm here to protect you, and I'll do that at all costs." He continued. "I will return you to your former body and I will get my arm and leg back."

"Brother…" Al wondered whether he should tell him of his actual opinion. He let the sentence hang for a couple of minutes before continuing.

"…thank you."

* * *

The raven-haired man closed his eyes and replayed the recent series of events over and over in his mind, attempting to analyze where he had failed her. Frigid waves of remorse washed over him, turning his stomach and draining him of what little hope he held. He buried his head in his hands, trying to drown the regretful voices that continually echoed in the recesses of his mind.

_It's my fault…I shouldn't have used my flame alchemy… _

_Why must everything I do end in pain? _

_If she dies…_

_I'll never forgive myself. _

**Hmm…getting a bit angsty towards the end there…oh well, angst is good. Wow…that was a very long chap (by my standards, anyway). **

**If you don't know how much reviews mean to an author by now, you must be living in a cave.**


	8. The Vortex of Sorrow

**Disclaimer: I'll own FMA one day… (When hell freezes over)**

**I apologise for those of you who have been waiting for this…the plot bunnies have not been kind (neither has my life, for that matter). Enjoy.**

Ironically enough, it is said that ones who appear strong in heart are in reality, the weakest. Roy Mustang is no exception.

Wallowing in his own self-hatred, he contemplated suicide with a disturbing clarity, recalling that he had holstered Riza's bloodstained pistol and it now resided in his military-issue jacket. Heck, he would do anything…_absolutely anything_ to rid himself of the pain that dwelled in deep inside his chest.

"Sir?"

Mustang's head whipped up immediately, naïvely hoping that the recent series of events had never happened, that the whole thing was merely a dream. _Yes, it's just another day at work…and I've just had a horrible nightmare. Now, Riza's going to tell me off for dozing… and everything will be okay. Right…?_

"The patient is now conscious," the doctor paused to chuckle slightly, "She's also demanding to be released from hospital and insists that she's fine."

Roy stood suddenly, his dwindling hope renewed.

"Thank you…may I see her?" _She's…fine…just fine…_

The doctor nodded and gestured towards the white door, giving his full consent.

Roy stepped gingerly inside the sterilized space, his eyes fixated on his first lieutenant. Despite teetering on the brink of death, she still looked radiant, no matter how her facial expressions betrayed her.

Honest auburn orbs met worn sable. "Have you come to take me back to Central, sir?"

Riza began to shakily push herself up, fighting against the constraints of her injured body. She had almost accomplished her goal but snarled bitterly as another wave of agonising pain overwhelmed her, forcing her to slump onto the headboard.

The blonde gritted her teeth in determination. "My back…" she seethed, "hurts like…hell."

Mustang rushed over and examined the assumed origin of the pain. A long ugly scar stretched from her left shoulder to her right hip, accompanied by many other, smaller scars, but no less painful. He traced the disfiguring mark with his finger, feeling her slight shiver as well as the jagged stitches that only reminded him of the unbearable pain he had caused her.

He sat next to her on the bed, taking care as not to jolt her and kissed her gently, feeling her lips soften into a smile at his close presence. He drew away and looked at her, genuinely sorry.

"Riza…I was so stupid…so careless…I'm really, really sorry…I really am…if I hadn't used alchemy, you wouldn't have been hurt…I'm such an idiot…I'm so sorry…" Roy's profuse apologies were silenced as Riza placed a finger on his lips, hushing him.

She smiled. Smiled as though nothing had ever happened and all was good in the world. As though poverty, disease and world hunger never existed. As though it was her very last day on Earth.

"I forgive you." She whispered, wincing.

"What's wrong?" Roy questioned anxiously, noticing that she had begun to twitch.

"Roy…" she breathed, her eyes sliding in and out of focus, "…doctor…" She fell back onto the pillow, her eyes glazing over.

"Stay with me, Riza…and that's an order." Roy murmured and sprinted out of the room, into the corridor.

"Doctor!" he yelled hoarsely, "Something's wrong!"

Several doctors ran past Roy, all rushing to check Riza's condition.

"Stay out, you're just an interference." A particularly kind one muttered to him.

Roy glanced up and down the lonely corridor to check whether anyone was there. He balled his fists in frustration and pounded the wall, letting out a strangled yelp that echoed the resentments of a military dog, chained and imprisoned to the indifferent State.

He slumped to the ground, utterly defeated. Leaning his head against the unforgiving wall, he stared up at the ceiling, longing to see the grinning face of Maes and the playful yet rare gleam in Riza's auburn eyes. His conscience tried to make sense of the whole dilemma but only succeeded in drenching his heart in another vortex of guilt and sorrow.

_Yeah, that's right, Mustang, look at you. You're a spineless wimp. _

_My best friend is dead. My love is dying. And it's all my fault. I have every right to be a spineless wimp. _

_That may be true, but this is public. You are a military officer. You have responsibilities. You have to set an example._

_You know what? I don't bloody care anymore. The military can go to hell. My job can go to hell. My life can go to hell. As long as Riza survives._

_Oh my, so now you're a SOPPY spineless wimp._

_Shut the fuck up._

_Touchy, touchy._

_You're my conscience. Aren't you supposed to be helping me?_

_I don't do that sort of thing._

_Bull._

_Alright, fine. Why don't you pick yourself up, march back into that room and demand to see Riza?_

_Somehow, I thought my conscience had common sense._

_Oh shut it. At least I'm trying to help. Okay…why don't you just wait it out? I mean there's nothing else you can do._

_That's it. I can't do anything. I feel so…useless._

_That's because you are._

_Thanks._

_No problem._

_So…what should I do now?_

_Hmm…sleeping on something always helps._

_I can't go to sleep now. What happens if she dies and I'm not there for her?_

_Deal with it, lover boy. _

_But…_

_Or else you can face the wrath of my incessant babbling._

_Big deal._

_The other alternative is leaving you dangling above the bottomless pit of anguish, despair and chronic depression. _

_Alright, who are you and what have you done with my conscience?_

_Very funny._

_I know I am._

_Conceited, much?_

_It comes with the packa…hey…why, do I feel so…sleepy…_

_Oh, I've just been pulling a couple of strings down at the neurological centre. Seems the ladies down there are more than happy to help, if you know what I mean._

_I…hate…you…_

_Love ya too, sweetums. _

**Sorry guys, just one more chapter…my sense of direction for this fic has temporarily gone AWOL. I suppose this chapter was a (romantic-ish) filler, hence the rambling between Roy and his conscience…I still haven't quite figured out where this story is going yet. (To kill or not to kill...that is the question…)**


	9. A Resplendent Lily

**Disclaimer: I do not possess any talent in writing whatsoever. Neither do I possess a creative, witty and/or amusing disclaimer. (sigh)**

**Written entirely to Evanescence's Fallen album…it really is a fantastic CD.**

Three weeks had passed since First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye last saw the world. She now lay immobilised, in a catatonic state, frozen in time. Eerily enough, her tawny eyes remained open, staring aimlessly with an endless gaze that chilled all who dared to enter.

Roy awoke from his fitful slumber and instantly glanced towards his subordinate, wishing desperately that she would also awaken. He arose slowly, walked over to the bed and sat himself upon the plastic stool that stood beside it, staring at Riza's features intently.

Self-consciously, he noted that in her current state, she looked rather plastic. Oh yes, she was very pretty in that plastic shell…yet so very…fake. None of her inner beauty shone through…she was but a doll. A doll that does not think, speak or feel. A doll that merely gazes out at the world through painted eyes, forever condemned to an eternity spent watching the world pass her by.

He chuckled morosely, wondering how she would react if she was conscious and he had voiced his opinion. Undoubtedly, there would be a rapid scrambling of feet, many near misses, close shaves, narrow escapes and inevitably, hissing holes in the smoking alabaster wall.

His face was cast into a grim line, for the words of the previous doctor echoed in his head.

"_It's only 10 percent…"_

Coughing abruptly, Mustang lifted his gaze to the window, peering through the blanket of darkness that had descended upon the land. He fixated his stare on the spherical figure illuminating the sky…oh how very elusive it was. Strangely enough, it was like life. Whenever he had just managed to grasp something, it discreetly slipped out of his hands, evading him, teasing him even. The moon went through this phase…when he was a child; he would often reach out towards the heavens in hope of finding the curved crescent, flexing his digits in a grabbing motion, desperate to touch it, to feel the smooth glowing texture beneath his calloused fingers. Yet every night, the moon had eluded him and even now, continued to do so. No longer were his hands unmarked and pure like a child's, but instead, they reeked with the stench of blood; with the lives that he had taken etched into them, a constant reminder of the sins that haunted him to this very day.

Deciding to stretch his limbs, the colonel ambled along the long corridor outside Riza's room and discovered a small eloquent sign that read, 'Flowers' in an illustrious script, hanging precariously over an archway. The raven-haired man looked around the colourful room, bouquets of spontaneous tulips, triumphant marigolds, cold hyacinths, soft lavenders and crinkly carnations meeting his troubled gaze.

"Do you need some help, dear?" An elderly woman questioned, her eyes boring into his very soul.

"Ah…yes…would you happen to have any lilies?" Roy asked, suddenly finding the checkered linoleum beneath his boots extremely interesting.

"I think we're out of lilies today. I'm very sorry."

He smiled briefly at the old lady. "It's alright. Thank you anyway."

He began to leave but was interrupted by a quick, "Oh, could you wait a moment? We may have some in the back."

The kindly old woman turned and hurried away, allowing Roy to catch a glimpse of her silvery locks, swept into an elegant bun. Like Hawkeye's, her hairstyle was secured by a simplistic clip, only hers was fashioned in the shape of an iris, complementing her cerulean eyes.

The florist returned shortly, carrying a vivid orange lily in her wrinkled hands.

"Wow…" Mustang said, awe-struck, "I've never seen such an exotic lily before. I'll take it."

She nodded in agreement. "Okay, then. I'm glad I remembered it."

Crossing the subtly scented room, she placed the flower on the working bench, brushing the previous clippings aside. "Now, young man, what would your name be?" Ocean blue eyes stared into his and her writing implement paused, poised above the worn writing pad.

"Mr. Mustang."

"Mustang…Mustang…" the elderly woman tapped her temple with her pen, "Oh my, you're the famed Flame Alchemist, are you not?"

"Yes, ma'am." Roy sighed.

The silver-haired lady chuckled as she wrote down his name.

"Mr. Mustang, do you know the significance of this flower?"

Roy shook his head, wondering why on earth flowers had meanings in the first place.

"Well, the orange lily signifies flame. In a nutshell, it means, I burn for you. Ironic, no?" She winked, handing the navy-blue clad figure the flower. She paused, as if thinking, and reached under the messy counter, passing Roy a transparent glass vase.

Roy pulled out his wallet. "So how much do I…"

She smiled sincerely at him, her eyes emanating truth and wisdom. "My boy, the best things in life are free."

* * *

He fingered the resplendent lily, pondering the old lady's kindness, before placing it in the glass vase that he had previously filled with water.

The lieutenant colonel sat beside his subordinate once more,a commander attending to his officer. Only this time, the person of question was much more than an officer. The person of question was a pillar of strength, inspiring mentor and if nothing else, a loyal friend.

Perhaps the tangerine lily would somehow summarise all his feelings for her. He looked introspective for a moment then pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, hastily scribbling down his innermost thoughts in his usual illegible scrawl. He folded the note crisply and set it down on the bedside table, next to the brilliant titian bloom.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Roy's eyes flickered wildly towards the life support system, watching the red line race erratically up and down the chart, signaling the shutting down of Riza's body.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

He tore his eyes away from the hateful machine and kneeled next to her, placing his calloused hand in hers, causing her to close her eyes in relief.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

He felt her hand squeeze his ever so slightly and he squeezed hers back gently in response.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

The ghost of a smile flitted across her pale features, illuminating her face for the last time.

_Beep._

Her body relaxed and her hand went limp, uncurling itself from Roy's grasp, a withered bloom unfurling its petals. As it did so, he felt a part of him die, something that was so crucial to his very being that he felt as though his heart would sooner shatter into a thousand pieces than bear the pain of being without it. He'd let another one slip…

He bowed his head over her frail body, letting the tears of anguish and grief flow freely. He wept, wept for Ishbal, wept for all the fallen comrades, wept for Maes and most of all, wept for Riza.

As the last tear left his onyx eyes, the pale dawn surfaced, bringing forth a fresh source of light that banished the shadows to the far corners of the land. Giving renewed hope to the world, another chance, a new day to begin anew. Because some things, no matter how long ago, will never be forgotten.

_The flame of my heart burns for you and you alone._

_It always has, always does, and always will. _

_I love you, Riza Hawkeye._

_And nothing, not even the cruel clutches of death, will ever change that._

**Well, that's the end of that. (dusts hands) Quite happy with that ending.**

**Just a bit of trivia for you, the bit about the orange lily's meaning is actually true.** **Oh yes, I shall post an alternate ending shortly, for those who didn't want Riza to die.**

**In the meantime, kindly review and let me know of your opinions. I appreciate it greatly.**


	10. Revelations, the alternate ending

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own FMA. Is that really so hard to swallow?**

**Alright everyone, this is the alternate ending, so if you like the ending where Riza dies, stick with that. This is just for all those Riza-lovers out there who would sooner impale me with a rusty spork than see Riza die (I mean, I love Riza just as much as you guys do but it is ever so fun to kill off main characters!) (cackles evilly).**

**Took me a little longer than I first anticipated…well, to make up for it, it's nice, long and fluffy! You have been warned.**

Three weeks had passed since First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye had been dismissed from intensive care. She'd insisted upon the rash decision herself, reinforcing her words by simply cocking her pistol and pointing it where it really counted. Well, where it really counted on Roy. What he hadn't realised at the time was that she actually couldn't use her weapon, as her trigger finger was still recovering under a thick blanket of cloth. But Roy, being too wrapped up in his frenzied habitual 'do-what-Riza-says-or-get-shot' phase, hadn't noticed.

Men. How very easy it was to manipulate them.

* * *

"Man…how the hell am I expected to finish all this?" Roy grumbled to no one in particular. _Correction, how the hell does SHE finish all this? _

The seemingly insane man sauntered along the worn path, dragging his feet through the crisp blanket of brittle leaf litter. He stumbled, tripping over the uneven surface and nearly toppled head over heels, fumbling with the massive stack of papers and the several brown bags that he held in his hands. He concluded that, despite his futile attempts at juggling his possessions, he would quite literally bash his head in if he didn't drop them.

So he dropped them. _Perfect,_ he thought smugly to himself. The items would merely plummet straight down to earth, waiting at his feet, while he regained his composure. Then he would proceed to pick them up in an orderly fashion and walk off with his dignity, possessions and ego intact.

Or so it seemed.

The rebellious papers scattered themselves throughout the crowded park, riding the frosty currents that delved through the fibres of Roy's thick jacket, chilling him to the bone and causing him to shiver.

Meanwhile, the paper bags had crashed onto the unforgiving concrete, earning a resounding 'crack' from the contents of the bags.

"Crap."

A young mother whirled around and clapped her hands to her daughter's vulnerable ears, shielding her from the 'bad word'.

"Just because you're in the military does not mean you can go about in public, swearing at whoever you please." She huffed, placing her hands on her hips, "There are young, impressionable children here, who will catch on and learn these sorts of things. And you know what will happen to them when they grow up? They'll become juveniles with no sense of direction in life and they'll get bored. Then, just because they're so bored, they'll start shoplifting or doing drugs. And you know who will be shaping them up? The police. The police will put them in gaol with their poor mothers weeping for them and wondering how it ever came to this. But after awhile, they'll get out on bail. Then they'll get out of control again, this time burning down buildings and torturing little kitties. And do you know who will clean up after them? The mili…"

Roy struggled not to explode from the absolute idiocy of the young woman's accusations. "I'm…" he laughed, hastily turning the snickers into a rather dubious cough, "…very sorry. It will never happen again."

"It better not. Or else I'll loose my husband on you. And believe me, when he's not drinking, burping and sitting in front of the television or getting smashed with friends at the pub, he's very intimidating. VERY intimidating."

Roy nodded quickly and bowed, not wishing to aggravate the extroverted mother once more. _God…I pity her husband…it's no wonder he goes and gets drunk all the time…I really don't blame him…_

The young lady harrumphed, turned on her heel and dragged her child away, an annoyingly satisfied smirk of supposed triumph fixed upon her features.

He breathed a sigh of relief, still shivering uncontrollably and turned his attention to his missing papers and brown bags, an ugly green tinge seeping through the thin paper.

_Just my luck…I trip over a non-existent obstacle in the park…on a WEEKEND, make a complete tool of myself…in front of practically HALF the population of Central, lose highly confidential military documents…that just HAVE to be signed by tomorrow, break Riza's bottle of painkillers…which just HAPPENED to be a green, nasty-smelling liquid, which BY THE WAY, cost a king's ransom that had to be taken out of MY paycheck, cause a stark raving-mad mother to chuck a fit…at ME and practically freeze to death because of the damned cold. _

_Life just isn't fair.

* * *

_

Riza snuggled further under the grey doona, listening to the howling winds that decimated the remaining leaves on the liquid ambers outside. _Just great…someone's going to have to rake all that up…that someone would be me…as usual…actually, I could probably get Roy to do it._

She smirked, the audacious facial expression rivaling Roy's own.

It wasn't her fault.

Really.

She couldn't help it that Roy had grabbed her hand, marched to his home and plonked her on his bed. Mind you, she'd avouched mightily, so he ended up slinging her over his shoulder, as one would do with a rucksack. A rather humbling gesture.

So in revenge, she'd reverted to physical force, kicking him a fair bit…albeit slightly harder than recommended when opposing one of higher rank. He hadn't minded in the least, determined to keep her away from headquarters and the overly stressful amounts of work that awaited her there. Surprisingly, he even steered clear of his usual retorts of insubordination and 'lack of respect for your fellow man'.

Not surprisingly, he'd also vowed to wait on her hand and foot until she fully recovered, a bewilderingly chivalrous oath from a man who was supposed to her superior. Most women of her position would consider this 'sweet' however she suspected that he was only doing this to get away from his monotonous desk job. Not that she objected.

She didn't force him to. Heck, she didn't even _ask_ him to.

So it wasn't her fault.

Not really.

True, it wasn't fair for her to put her feet up while Roy was running himself ragged, attending to her every whim. At first she'd protested…but apparently the great Roy Mustang had befriended the female's worst enemy…selective hearing. This newly forged partnership probably wouldn't have made a difference anyway, since his pig-headed stubbornness and steely determination would've refused to relent.

Besides…she actually did love that fool.

Kinda.

Sure, he was annoying as heck and had the mentality of a four year old at times but she'd stood by him through the years, supporting him and pushing him to the top. Much like Maes…until he'd passed on. She shivered slightly as a breeze crept under the doorway, sneaking into the simplistic bedroom. Maybe Maes had overheard her. Maybe she was hallucinating.

Dismissing all coherent logic from her usually ordered mind, she decided to consult the ghostly aura in the room. "Maes? I know you're there."

A faint chuckle echoed in the dark recesses of her mind, sounding much like Hughes' usual chortle.

"Well…I've got a bit of a problem. You see…I think…I think I might love Roy." She fidgeted with the corner of the quilt, eyes averted.

A gleeful chant of 'I told you so's invaded her brain, the emotion emanated similar to that of an obsessive compulsive fan girl when asked about her idol of choice.

"Stop it with the 'I told you so', already. This is hard enough to talk about and the fact that you're a ghost doesn't help."

The presence stiffened, exuding solemnity.

"I think I love him…but it's wrong. I'll just be holding him back. He…the rules won't allow it." She paused, thinking over what she'd just revealed.

"But you see…how do I know that he loves me?"

A memory of the heated kiss floated back into her mind, the caress of his tongue, the rough battle for dominance …

"I recall that I initiated that. He could've continued it merely for lust…" she interrupted abruptly.

Hundreds of images flashed before her, some honest acts of mateship and honour while others of a more suggestive nature…

"Oh c'mon…"

She gasped, the faint memory of his lips on hers, gentle and achingly sweet, the subdued longing that seemed to surface only with the memory of the kiss…

"Okay, you win. So what if he does love me? Remember that little rule, military officers are not permitted to fraternize with each other. Hmm?"

The image of a drunk Maes resembling a drag queen, dancing in the rain and singing off-key "Screw the rules…we don't need 'em…screw the rules…can't even read 'em…" appeared in her mind, triggering other disturbing memories to rush back including 'spin the bottle' with chopsticks, urinal cakes, thirty centimetre platforms shoes and an undoubtedly unhealthy amount of makeup.

She shuddered involuntarily. How she wished she'd stayed home from work that day…

"Okay…I'll see what I can do. But if you breathe a word of this to Roy, I will personally hunt down every last picture of Elicia you have ever owned and by the time I'm done with them, you'll wish you hadn't taken them in the first place."

The room suddenly felt very empty, no doubt devoid of a certain divine presence.

"'Till next time, Maes." She smirked for the second time that day. _Damn…that Mustang's really getting to me…

* * *

_

Mustang sneezed, scattering the pitiful pile of papers he had collected.

"Perfect…" he muttered.

He whipped his head up to check if any mothers prone to epileptic fits were around. Thankfully, the coast was clear.

He stood there helplessly, watching his documents evade him once more.

"Just frickin' perfect."

* * *

Riza sat up in the simplistic bed and swung her feet around so they touched the floor. She noted the approximate temperature of the timber and promptly threw herself across the room, avoiding touching the frigid floor.

She landed heavily on her left foot, yelling out several profanities before biting her lip. Regretting her hasty and undeniably stupid solution, she limped over to the couch, recalling the state of Roy's living room on her last visit. Lucky for her, the muted beryl carpet was now free of obstruction, save for a few newspapers and pieces of clothing.

She spotted a woolen jumper on the sagging couch, inviting her to slip it on. Giving into temptation she pulled the piece of clothing over her head, appreciating the warmth that it contributed to her body. The grey jumper had a curious smell to it. Not a good or bad scent. As far as her nose could detect, it comprised of sweat, musk and…was that charcoal? Yes, this was definitely Roy's jumper. Strangely enough, the odd yet familiar scent comforted her.

Feeling content, she flopped onto the couch, settling into the worn leather with an uncharacteristic laziness. She left her thoughts to drift aimlessly as she watched the torrent of leaves whirl in a frenzied dance, pondering everything and nothing.

Suddenly, the fickle logic that had escaped her drug-induced state kicked in. The cold reality that had thwarted her finally hit home.

First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye had been living with none other than Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, flame alchemist and notorious playboy for three weeks. Three whole weeks.

She smacked herself across the face. Hard.

_I can't develop feelings for my superior…what the heck am I doing? You will NOT let yourself degenerate into a lovesick puppy over your commanding officer. I'm supposed to be helping Roy…I mean Mustang, doing my job as a subordinate. But here I am, letting myself be pampered and putting my feet up while I sit on my lazy ass. Some help you are, Riza. _

"Okay." She reassured herself, "I'm getting out of here. I'm going to go home, recuperate and go back to work and pretend that nothing ever happened."

The blonde pushed herself off the couch, incorrectly assuming that her whole body was functioning properly. The agonizing stab of pain that assailed her left leg and bandaged hands disproved this theory.

She flopped back onto the couch, giving in to defeat.

_Well…I shall just have to wait until Ro-Mustang gets home. I could probably threaten him successfully again…after all, men are creatures of habit.

* * *

_

The shaking figure bent down once again to reach for a paper. After a good twenty minutes he had painstakingly assembled nearly the whole pile. Nearly.

For there was but one paper that eluded him. It had placed itself in a devilishly tricky spot in the park, the pride and joy of the gardeners. One of the features on the 'picture perfect' postcards that the nearby horticultural centre sold, single-handedly illuminating the glossy paper. Perhaps the very reason visitors came to the park.

That devilishly tricky spot just happened to be in the very middle of the rose bushes.

Roy moaned dismally and clapped a hand to his forehead. "Oh bloody hell…could this day get any worse?"

Gritting his teeth, he ran straight into the foreboding bracken with all the grace of a marauding Viking. A long string of colourful curses pursued him as he whipped past the thorns that pierced his uniform and dug into his flesh.

Scrutinising the surrounding area, he glimpsed the troublesome paper, swiped and missed, earning himself a palm full of thorns, drawing a substantial amount of blood with it.

Furrowing his brow, he lashed out at the branch once again and seized the paper. Yet instead of holding the document in his hands, Roy now clutched the rose branch in his grimy hand.

"WHAT THE HELL! My hand…get it out, get it out…ow…it hurts…"

* * *

The once navy clad figure crawled out of the undergrowth, clutching the paper bags and miraculously, all of the papers.

He panted, posing as a filthy Black Hayate and recalled his earlier rhetoric.

"Famous last words, Mustang. Famous last words." he muttered bitterly.

The gentle pitter patter of tears hit the ground, refreshing the plants that grew there and dampening the soil. Mustang looked up and quite conveniently received a raindrop in his eye.

Blinking rapidly, he groaned.

_Not fair, sky. I'm the one who feels like crying.

* * *

_

The three men awoke to the soothing sounds of rain, patiently tapping against the frosty panes in the darkened office.

Jean yawned and stretched his arms out, carelessly slamming his arms intoBreda's sleepingface.

The victim bolted upright, screaming, "AHH! Get off me, you mongrel! You, beast! JUST…eh?"

The red-headed man blinked in confusion and merely looked at Havoc. Plastering an 'oh you are SO in for it now' look on his face, he plucked the smoking cigarette out of the blonde's mouth, twirled it between his fingers and flicked it into a nearby pot plant, promptly extinguishing it.

"NOOO!" cried the horrified Havoc, "That was my last one!"

Breda grinned toothily. "Check and mate."

"Damn you! Damn you all! There's a conspiracy against me, I swear…"

"Hey, you deserved it. You're the one who whacked me across the face."

Havoc, oblivious to the truth in Breda's sentiments, continued to mourn for his lost smoke while Breda gently shook Fuery awake, ruffling his hair and uniform in the process. The doe-like officer arose reluctantly, rubbing his eyes and patting his many pockets for his glasses.

"Uh…why were we sleeping again? Shouldn't we be finishing that paperwork the colonelassigned us?" The innocent man questioned.

"Well, ah…" Breda began, "We thought we needed some time off. Besides, Riza AND Roy aren't here. How could we resist?"

Havoc abruptly stopped whining and winked slyly at the pair. "I wonder what they're doing…"

The pleasantly plump man turned to glare at the seemingly brainless blonde. "There are innocent minds present."

This time it was Fuery's turn to look confused.

"Huh? Why'd you wink, Jean? And what do you mean by 'I wonder what they're doing'? I'm lost…"

Havoc suddenly realised the implications of Fuery's apparently innocent state of mind and casually slung an arm around the small man's shoulders.

"Oh young one, we were all once like you before we came here. Before we came under the command of him."

"Him?"

"The infamous Roy Mustang."

"Oh." Fuery blinked again, processing a thought. "Ooh…Eew! That's dirty, Havoc."

Breda watched the comical scene with amusement, smiling at the untainted Fuery and corrupted Havoc.

"I haven't finished yet. Anyway, soon enough you will become one of us." Havoc's facial expression changed to sinister. "Join us, my pretty, join us…"

Fuery looked alarmed and wriggled away from the blonde's grasp, signifying his obvious discomfort.

Havoc's arm retreated from Fuery's personal space and placed itself under his chin, propping his head up. "Oh c'mon, you've heard him." He knelt and thrust a hand out towards the ceiling, imitating Mustang's declaration position.

"I will make all women in the military wear mini skirts! God…he's got guts, that man. To try and tame the Hawkeye and get her in a miniskirt…" the aberrantly cigarette-less individual whistled low and glanced at the chrome clock.

"Shit! It's 10 o'clock! I have a date at 8! Shit, shit, shit, shit…" The blonde scrambled across the room, grabbing his coat and fled the room, his skidding shoes on the hallway reverberating throughout the lone building.

Fuery and Breda both stared at each other.

"Well, that was…interesting." He looked at the clock to confirm the time, "Yeah, it is pretty late. I'd better get home. See ya, Fuery." Breda walked out of the room and into the barren corridor.

The ebony haired man straightened and nodded curtly, following Breda out the door. Locking the office with his copy of the brass keys, he muttered to himself, "I wonder what the colonel and first lieutenant are actually doing…"

* * *

"OWW! IT HURTS, GODDAMNIT, WOMAN!" Roy yelled, tearing his injured hand away from Hawkeye and inspecting it gingerly.

"Ro-Sir, if I don't take the thorns out, you'll run the risk of contracting tetanus." Riza explained tiredly, pausing with metal tweezers in hand.

"Alright, fine…" he muttered, giving in to the steely barrier that was Riza Hawkeye.

A few stressful minutes later, all the rose thorns had been retrieved, albeit much varied 'french' previously unknown to Riza.

She gave him a motherly once-over and, satisfied with her repairing skills, threw in a quick nod to reinforce her approval.

Smiling, she inclined her head slightly to indicate legitimacy. "Thank you, sir, for letting me recuperate in your home for the past three weeks..."

"My pleasure, lieutenant."

"…and I feel I have intruded on your privacy for long enough, so I have decided to go home."

The raven-haired man gaped inwardly. _What?_

He attempted to regain his composure. "Riza, it is of no trouble to me. Personally, I have quite enjoyed your stay. Ah…so why don't you stay longer?"

_Hmm…because I'm getting more attracted to you everyday that I remain here with you?_

"Well, sir…"

"Roy."

"Sir," she continued, ignoring his stern command, "it is highly improper for a female officer to reside in the home of a male officer."

"Riza, you are staying here until you recover and that's final."

"No."

He looked at her incredulously. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"Sir, when I said no, I meant that I refuse to reside in your home any longer."

"That wasn't a recommendation, you know. It was an order."

"Yes, I inferred that."

"Then why can't you follow it?"

"Because it doesn't go by the rules."

"Screw the rules, does it look like I give a damn?"

"Frankly, no. But you cannot keep me here against my own will."

_Smooth, Riza, real smooth. He most likely took that the wrong way…_

Turns out, he did. Mustang took a step backward, a primal instinct put into action only when his brain told him to back off.

"Alright, Hawkeye. You have my permission to leave." he uttered coldly, his eyes a cloudy obsidian screen from the pain she had just caused him.

"Thank you, sir." she echoed, unintentionally letting a nearly undetectable tone of regret creep into her voice. The man turned and left the room, striding into the corridor adjacent.

The steely soldier gathered all her belongings with a quiet and almost mournful grace, silently lamenting her harsh words. Roy returned with her bag of clothes that she had prepared earlier and handed them to her, his posture stiff. She nodded once more and placed a hand on the doorknob, turning it and unleashing the cruel winds on the still house.

_Do I really want to do this? _

_Yes._

_Really?_

_No, I'm lying._

_But…I don't want to do this._

_But you have to. _

_There's a difference?_

_Yes. Now leave._

_Ok…if he doesn't say or do anything by the count of three, I will._

_Wuss._

_One…_

Only a host of scarred snowflakes drifted across the dusty plateau of their hearts, dancing on to the rhythm of life.

_Two…_

The sound of remorse hung heavy in the air, thick, choking both Roy and Riza slowly and painfully.

_Three._

The apathetic man stood his ground. No response.

Riza closed the door gently behind her, swallowing, in hope of ridding her throat of the large lump of guilt that had accumulated there. The howling gusts were her only solace, callously caressing her cheek, enamoured by the morbidity she exuded.

She felt like crying. The tears of sorrow trickling down her cheek tempted her so…but no, she couldn't cry. She must stay strong. If not for the colonel, for her. Yes…just her.

She walked the length of the verandah and placed her meager possessions beside her, wobbling with each solemn step she took. Sitting herself on the unsteady beam of the banister, she sighed, staring out at the stormy sky with an unending indifferent gaze.

"Now I was once a fool, it's true…I played the game by all the rules…" she crooned, consoling herself through song.

Riza coughed and drew her coat around her, dangerously close to tears.

"But now my world's a deeper blue…I'm sadder, but I'm wiser too…" she intoned, her soft voice lost among the wild winds.

"I swore I'd never love again…I swore my heart would never mend…said love wasn't worth the pain…but then I hear it call my name…" she inhaled slowly, shuddering with the deep breath.

"The trouble with love is, it can tear you up inside…make your heart believe a lie…it's stronger than your pride…" she continued, wracked with pain, pain borne not from flesh but from her heart.

"The trouble with love is, it doesn't care how fast you fall…and you can't refuse the call…see, you got no say at all…" Riza's voice fell to a low, mournful whisper and died, carried far away on the lonesome breeze.

The soldier shuddered, vulnerable to the enormous emotional upheaval that raged within the tempest in her breast.

Summoning what little courage she held, she stepped up to the imposing door and knocked tentatively.

"Ro-Roy…" her voice cracked, "please open up."

She was shortly greeted by her colonel's face, still an unreadable mask.

"What…" he glared at her, "What do you want now, lieutenant?"

"I…I…can I stay with you a little longer?" The normally strong woman lay crumpled before him, a priceless beauty, shattered by his cruelty and carelessness.

Roy's face softened. "Yeah, sure."

Sensing her atypical fragility, he pulled her into a comforting embrace, letting her rest her head against his chest. He began to stroke her hair, trying to quieten her inner unrest. He was now well and truly worried for her welfare…Riza? Fragile? Had hell frozen over?

"Roy…" she breathed, "I want to help you in any way I can. I've dedicated my life to this cause…I'll see you through this endless rain. And I know it's wrong…but…I love you."

He stiffened suddenly but continued to stroke her golden locks soothingly, murmuring words of comfort. She stepped back and stared at him, searching his eyes for a negative response.

"Riza…you need help too."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I don't need help. I'm fine on my own."

He smiled genuinely. "Look at yourself. Even your eyes beg to differ."

She cast her russet orbs down to the floor. "That's not true."

"Look at me, lieutenant."

Riza lifted her gaze and stared at Roy expectantly.

He placed a finger on her chin and tilted it up slightly so that she stared directly at him.

"You are a beautiful, capable woman. You are strong and selfless with flawless skill in firearms. You'd help a comrade in any way possible just to see them smile. Yet…even the most independent woman seeks shelter. And that's why I know, useless as I may be in the rain, that there is a chance of my love to be returned."

She looked stunned for a moment but hastily composed an answer.

"Roy, I'm not all of those things. And…" she trailed off, searching for the right phrase, "even if I needed help…why do you think I need it?"

He grabbed her by the collar and yanked her towards him.

"Because…"

Their lips met chastely in a warm, delicate embrace as the teardrops of the heavens began to rain down once more, cleansing the land of its former sins. The lovers' lips parted slightly, allowing Roy to finish his sentence.

"You're also useless in the rain."

_--- _

_Fin._

**And without further ado, I declare that _Tinge of Jade_ has come to an end (finally).**

**(Aren't you guys proud of me? A nice long fluffy ending for the Royai fans. So fluffy that it's killing me, really. Oh yes, if you didn't know that song, _The Trouble With Love Is_, you should be ashamed.)**

**Much love to all the reviewers who have encouraged me to continue this fanfic. Also thanks to the people who read this story but couldn't be bothered to review. Anyway, I'd just like to say that I'm genuinely happy that some people took pleasure in reading this and that I was able to cause sunshine and such through mere words.**

**Peace, **

**Sable Sword**


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